


Life As We Want It

by Akranes



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Anal Sex, Belly Kink, Chubby Park Jimin (BTS), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Feeder Kim Namjoon | RM, Feeding, Future Fic, Kink Discovery, M/M, Retirement, Stuffing, Teasing, Weight Gain, Weight Gain Kink, Weight Issues, feedee jimin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akranes/pseuds/Akranes
Summary: After BTS disbands, Namjoon and Jimin marry and move out of Seoul to enjoy a more slow-paced life.(Or, more specifically, they enjoy a newfound kink together.)
Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin
Comments: 38
Kudos: 151
Collections: Are u calling me a sinner





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been OVER A YEAR since I've posted a k-pop fic! I've been doing a lot of commissions lately (which I am honored by, perpetually feeling super blessed that people are willing to pay for my writing). But it has left me with little time to write something truly self-indulgent. And so that's what this is looool
> 
> There is no plot here. There is only **chubby/weight gain kink** (SO DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU. Best to bow out now if that's not your cup of tea) and a tooth rotting amount of fluff and domesticity. Did I mention this is self-indulgent af?
> 
> Unbeta'd, please forgive grammar/spelling mistakes~
> 
> Again, mostly kink ahead. Please read those tags!

Namjoon feels Jimin press against his back, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s waist and sighing contentedly. After three years of quietly dating and now a year into their marriage, Namjoon’s heart still flutters and a pleased smile still finds its way onto his face. It’s early March, and the cool but bright spring sun streams through the tall windows in the dining room. 

“Smells good,” Jimin says, voice still heavy with sleep.

Namjoon looks over his shoulder, making eye contact and taking in his husband’s tired eyes, messy hair and sleepy smile. It’s enough that he needs to have Jimin even closer, and he pulls him forward with one arm so they’re side by side. Namjoon wraps an arm around his shoulders while the other tends to the omelette in the pan. Jimin all but purrs in contentment, tucking his face into Namjoon’s chest and closing his eyes.

Namjoon wasn’t always a very trusted cook, but Jimin has developed a soft spot for American style breakfasts over the years of touring, and potatoes, toast and an omelette wasn't too challenging.

Namjoon presses a kiss to the top of Jimin’s head, because he can. Jimin smiles softly and looks up at him, “Love you, Joonie.”

Namjoon sighs happily, “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that. Again?”

Jimin rolls his eyes and giggles, but reaches out to put a hand on Namjoon’s cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Namjoon says, grinning, and presses a kiss to Jimin’s lips.

Namjoon steps away from Jimin, who makes a little unhappy sound, to put the omelette onto a plate, where he had already put fried some potatoes as well. He hands the plate to Jimin and goes to work on his own omelette.

“This is a lot of food,” Jimin comments absently, stepping away to grab himself a set of chopsticks, popping several potatoes into his mouth immediately.

“It’s okay if you don’t finish,” is all Namjoon says. He’s surprised Jimin commented at all, because for the most part, he seems pretty unaware of the way his appetite had increased over the last year. Namjoon has given him a fair amount for breakfast; his omelette had two more eggs than Namjoon was using for his own, and had more filling to match as well, and he had given Jimin the bulk of the potatoes and a serving of toast. But if he hadn’t filled Jimin’s plate, it probably wouldn’t have been enough to satisfy his husband.

Since BTS disbanded a little over a year ago, Jimin and Namjoon have married and been enjoying as much domestic bliss and they please. They moved out of Seoul and into the much smaller city of Gangneung. It’s close enough that Seoul is still within traveling distance, but far enough that it feels like a new chapter. They have no concrete plans for the next few years; they have plenty of money and are still earning money from albums sold, and royalties off songs Namjoon wrote or produced. They were just well and truly _relaxing_.

They both figured they’d get bored and want to do something else eventually, but they agreed to cross that bridge when they got there. They’d both picked up some hobbies, and Namjoon still wrote and sold music when he felt like it. For now, spending time with each other was all either of them really wanted to do.

Jimin has thickened since disbanding. He had always loved food, but was a little squirrlish about it in the past. Namjoon knows he’s struggled with his weight and body image, and while it broke his heart, he understood. There was immense pressure on them as idols to look a certain way, and Jimin especially was known for his abs. He hadn’t begrudged Jimin’s diet or exercise routine, but he did keep a closer eye on it than Jimin ever probably knew. As long as he was still eating and wasn’t spending absurd hours at the gym, as long as he was _healthy_ , Namjoon kept his mouth shut.

Jimin got better about it a few years after their debut; he got more confident in himself, more comfortable talking about his body and his struggles. Namjoon was so proud of him; beyond the self acceptance he was learning, he was sharing a struggle that was relatable to thousands of fans. But, still, his strict diet and exercise routine had remained in place.

Since moving to Gangneung, Jimin hasn’t looked for a new gym. The house they’re renting has a studio that they both use, and there Jimin still dances from time to time. But otherwise, the most exercise they get is walking along the beach to watch the sunrise.

Jimin has started eating well, too. So well that it makes Namjoon’s heart sing. He eats full, hearty meals without hesitation and he _always_ reaches for dessert.

Jimin had mentioned it when they first moved, that he was over his diet and exercise routine. “It’s just so exhausting, Joonie. I don’t want to worry about it anymore,” he had said.

Namjoon said he wholeheartedly supported him. But, that was all Jimin had ever said on the subject.

As such, he isn’t completely sure Jimin knows how much weight he has put on. He isn’t sure Jimin knows that he is definitely _still_ putting weight on.

Namjoon is too scared to say anything; he doesn’t want to dredge up old insecurities that he seems to have finally shaken off, or make Jimin hyper aware of something that matters so little. Or, even worse, make him think Namjoon cares at all that he’s a little chubby now.

So, he’s decided not to say anything unless Jimin does.

Namjoon takes his own omelette off the heat and slides it onto his plate, joining Jimin on a barstool at the counter. He grazes his fingers over a soft hip and presses a kiss to his cheek. Jimin smiles easily, turning to kiss him on the lips.

Jimin has almost finished his food by the time Namjoon sits down. He looks adorable; chubby cheeks working each bite of food, the bit of pudge along his jaw emphasized when he looks down at his plate. His thighs have thickened beautifully; Namjoon loves the way they jiggle now when he walks and dances. They’re still strong, just covered in a novel layer of cushion. Both his thighs and rear are wide enough to cover the whole barstool he’s sitting on. It’s not a _huge_ barstool, but still. That’s where he’s been putting on the most weight, around his hips, thighs, and ass. The rest of him had only gotten a bit thicker. But now, Namjoon notices, he’s getting a bit of a belly; it’s straining his t-shirt, pushing over the hem of his leggings, looking round, soft, and squeezable. 

Namjoon has always loved Jimin, but there’s something about his softened husband that’s just the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.

Namjoon takes a few bites of his own food, but can’t keep his hands to himself for long. He places a hand on Jimin’s thigh, just rubbing back and forth with his thumb at first, then giving the soft flesh a gentle squeeze.

Jimin smiles, pushes his empty plate away, then shifts a little closer to Namjoon. Taking advantage of Namjoon’s attention, Jimin picks his chopsticks back up and plucks a few potatoes off Namjoon’s plate.

Namjoon cackles and gives his soft thigh a pinch in retaliation. Jimin pouts and gives him puppy eyes.

“Are you still hungry? You can have my potatoes, I can make more,” Namjoon says.

Something about the offer has Jimin hesitating, “I...shouldn’t. I already had a big plate.”

It sounds too close to what Jimin used to say when Seokjin would try to cajole him into eating a little more when he was skimping on meals. Namjoon wonders if now Jimin’s thinking about how much food the plate had looked like, but how easy it had been for him to finish it. The very idea of Jimin not having and taking exactly what he wants has Namjoon’s stomach twisting.

“We have some fruit?” Namjoon offers, genuinely not wanting Jimin to go hungry, “I can cut up some pineapple.”

That seems to be a good compromise and Jimin’s smiling again, and he nods.

Namjoon doesn’t miss how he steals a few more potatoes off his plate as he’s cutting up the fruit.

_

Weeks later, they finally manage to coordinate all the members coming to see Jimin and Namjoon’s place, then planning on spending a few days in Gangneung.

They’ve all seen their place on different occasions except for Taehyung, but it’s been a while since all seven of them got together anyway, so when everyone’s schedules lined up, they took advantage.

They had just had mid-afternoon sex, because why not, and after laying around bed for a little, Jimin got up and announced he was going to rummage through his clothes and pick out some outfits for their friends’ visit next week.

Namjoon’s still naked in bed, but was starting to feel a little anxious. Jimin really _hasn’t_ noticed his weight gain? Surely none of the pants from his idol days would fit over those thighs anymore, and his shirts probably wouldn’t fair much better over his pudgy little tummy.

It was hard not to admire his husband, who had left the door to the walk-in closet open and was still naked, shifting through hangers. His back was to Namjoon, and he admired the way Jimin’s always perky ass was still just as perky, but had swelled considerably into a round, heavier bubble butt. His thighs had thickened to match, and Namjoon thought he maybe even saw a little dimpling along his upper thighs when Jimin moved just right. There were little bulges of chub above his formerly lean hips, and Namjoon’s fingers itched to reach out and grab him there. He probably would’ve if it didn’t mean getting out of bed.

“Why don’t we go shopping for some clothes?” Namjoon tries, “It’s been a while since you got anything new.”

Jimin gives him a look, “You’re the one who said I have too many clothes to begin with.”

“Did I say that?”

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs, “Oh, just a few _hundred_ times when we were moving.”

Namjoon’s anxiety starts getting the better of him as he lays and watches Jimin parse through his pants. Should he go to the bathroom to let Jimin have this moment, what will probably be an embarrassing one for him, alone? Or should he stay, ready to offer support and reassurance?

Namjoon decides to stay as Jimin starts pulling a pair of dark jeans over his feet; Jimin loves attention, and always feels better with it than without.

It’s no surprise to Namjoon when the waistband catches around mid-thigh. Jimin gives an annoyed huff and starts tugging them by the belt loops and hopping. His little pot belly jiggles, and the tiny bit of flesh that’s accumulated over his once flat chest seems to be bouncing a little, too. 

Namjoon’s more than a little entranced. He wonders how much Jimin’s put on. It must be over 15 kilos by now. More like 20?

 _Probably_ , Namjoon thinks as the pants barely inch up his thighs a little more. He’s surely gotten them as far as they could go without ripping; Jimin’s thickened thighs have stopped the rigid denim in its place, and his generous ass overflowed the backside of the waistband. Jimin obviously now realized the problem, cheeks growing flushed as he pushes the jeans off his thighs with a huff. If Namjoon wasn’t preparing for potential tears, the way Jimin picks the pants up and inspects the label for the size with an offended look on his face would almost be humorous.

He lets the jeans drop to the floor, grumbling something Namjoon can’t make out, before rummaging through more pants, pointedly checking the sizes now, before picking out another pair and trying again.

They must’ve been a bigger size, and Jimin only began to struggle around his upper-thighs. His little hopping routine was more effective this time, and the denim reluctantly crept up the rest of his thighs. His ass was still hanging over, and Jimin reached back to tug them up. His behind was bouncing from the sharp tugs, and Namjoon felt his own face heat up. _Holy shit_ , did he look good.

Jimin got them on to the point that they wouldn’t pull up any more, the band of his underwear was just barely covered, when he tried to button them. The plump little curve of his belly sat in the v of his open pants. Jimin took each side of the jeans in his hands, also using them to press against the curve of his belly to flatten it, and tugged them closed. It took a few moments of struggling, and the jeans rode so low that it made his tummy look even rounder, and his fleshy sides spilled over the waistband. Jimin looks at himself in the full length mirror, and surprise colors his features. He finally turns to Namjoon. 

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, loud and needy, his brow furrowed in distress, “Why didn’t you tell me I got so fat?!”

“You’re not fat,” Namjoon says easily, because it’s true. He’s only a bit chubby now, in Namjoon’s opinion, and if he wasn’t an idol before, it wouldn’t have seemed to drastic.

Jimin, still shirtless, crosses his arms with a huff. He looks at his profile in the mirror and groans, “Oh, hyung, my ass is huge!”

These days, Jimin usually only calls him hyung if he’s being cute and wants something, or if he’s upset and needs comfort. Namjoon gets up then, begging his exposed dick not to react to his gorgeous husband in tight clothes. Jimin stands in the closet, arms still crossed, looking at Namjoon distrustfully.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he accuses before Namjoon has a chance to say anything, “That’s why you said we should just get new clothes.”

“I knew that my beautiful, perfect husband would get upset about putting on a little weight, yes. Jiminie, I didn’t say anything because I know you have a complicated relationship with your body, but you’ve been so happy not worrying about it. I didn’t want to bring it up and make you start worrying again.”

Namjoon brings a hand to Jimin’s waist. He’s not too pudgy there yet, but it’s still wider than it used to be.

Jimin huffs, “I knew I had put on some weight. But these are my biggest pair of pants, Joonie! If these don’t fit, I’m not going to fit into _anything_!”

Namjoon pulls him closer and Jimin accepts the hug with a sigh. He’s not as upset as Namjoon feared he might’ve been, so he’s grateful for that. Jimin rests his head against Namjoon’s chest.

“We can look through your shirts, some of them might fit,” he offers and it’s true; he hasn’t gained as much weight on top as he has on bottom, so some of Jimin’s bigger tops would probably still fit. “We can still go shopping for clothes this week.”

“I guess,” Jimin says, pulling his head back to look up at Namjoon, a frown still on his face, “ _You_ haven’t gained any retirement weight.”

Namjoon chuckles nervously. It’s definitely true, he’s still as gangly and awkward-looking as ever. Weight just doesn’t stick to him like it sticks to Jimin, or like it stuck to Taehyung and Yoongi during breaks. He’s just not built like that.

He kind of _loves_ that Jimin is, though. The softness on his frame feels like a physical manifestation of their mutual agreement to relax and take it easy. He loves it, and wishes Jimin did, too.

“You’re gorgeous, Park Jimin, you know that, right? That even with a few extra kilos, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve literally ever seen?”

That finally has Jimin smiling again, and he blushes and looks down at Namjoon’s chest. “Even with my thunder thighs?”

Namjoon hums, “Thick is in now, anyway, Jimin-ah.” He reaches down to grope where his ass met those wonderful thighs and Jimin yelps in surprise, before swatting Namjoon and giggling. He waits for Jimin to settle back into his arms before he continues.

“I’m serious, though. You’re so beautiful, and it makes me so happy that you’re not strict about your diet anymore,” Namjoon admits, “It’s your body and I want you to be happy in it, but...your diet used to worry me sometimes. I’m glad you eat what you want now. I don’t mind the extra kilos at all, baby.”

Jimin’s smiling truly now, and he tucks himself a little deeper into Namjoon’s chest.

_

“It looks like you’ve been taking good care of Jimin,” Seokjin says. They’re alone in the kitchen, grabbing a few more drinks for the room.

There’s been a lot of drinking tonight, but Namjoon’s not so inebriated that he doesn’t know what Seokjin means. The two of them had shared their private concerns about Jimin’s diet before, as the eldest and the leader, and he knew Seokjin would be just as pleased as Namjoon was that Jimin was allowing himself to let go a little.

Namjoon smiles, feeling warm, “He looks good, doesn’t he?” It’s been at least eight months since Seokjin has seen them last, and whatever weight Jimin had put on then had probably doubled by now.

“Domestic bliss looks good on him,” Seokjin agrees, and then he chuckles, “He might be giving Yoongi a run for his money.”

Namjoon glances at their friends; the kitchen has a pass through so he can see into the living room where they were sitting, but they were talking and laughing loudly and music was playing, so they couldn’t hear them. Yoongi was sitting next to Jimin for an easy comparison. To no one’s surprise, really, Yoongi had started putting on some weight before they even officially announced their disbandment, and then got truly chubby after, enjoying a lower profile as a producer. Still, he looked about the same size as he was when Namjoon last saw him, maybe five months ago? Jimin, on the other hand, has been getting chubbier by the month.

Yoongi was still probably the bigger of the two, and it definitely looked that way when they were sitting and Yoongi’s belly rounded in front of him, compared to Jimin’s smaller, much more hideable tummy. But when they stood and Jimin’s ass and thighs were revealed, it was a little harder to determine which of them was actually heavier.

Namjoon watches as Jimin reaches for more chips on the table and smiles. “In size or appetite?” he jokes to Seokjin.

He laughs, “In appetite, he might actually have Yoongi beat.” He looks at Namjoon, surprisingly serious, and says, “I’m proud of him for relaxing. I know it’s hard for him. So you keep loving him the same, alright?”

Namjoon shakes his head, laughing because the idea of him not worshiping the ground Jimin walks on is insane, “You know I will.”

He smiles and claps Namjoon on the shoulder, “Yeah, I know you will.”

_

Something’s changed in Jimin, and Namjoon can’t quite figure out what.

It’s been a few months since their friends visited and stayed a few days. It’s nearing August now, and Jimin has, well. Gotten _particularly_ insatiable over the past few months.

His weight gain, which had been steady since their disbandment, has accelerated. His little tummy was becoming not-so-little, and his ass and thighs had continued to swell to proportions that made Namjoon dizzy. He was getting a double chin, and his arms were soft and completely devoid of visible muscle.

They had gotten Jimin new loungewear when they went shopping before their friends came a few months ago, and now they were in the same position as before, where that was all Jimin wore and Namjoon was skeptical that he could fit into his new, biggest jeans.

It had taken Jimin about a year to truly outgrow his old idol jeans. Now, if Namjoon’s suspicions were right, it took only a few months with his worsening eating habits to outgrow his new jeans. Namjoon wasn’t sure why thinking about it that way made him sweat.

Either way, there's no denying that Jimin’s appetite has gone through another growth spurt. He's _always_ hungry. Always planning the next meal, always snacking on something in the meantime. The foods he wants has veered away from vegetables and lean meats, and he seems to crave more and more carbs and fried, fatty foods. And _sweets_. He follows almost every meal with some sort of dessert; getting donuts after a hearty breakfast, having a chocolate bar or two after lunch, making cookies after dinner. These days, it seemed like Jimin's eating as often as he's breathing.

Namjoon wonders if maybe he’d still been holding back, still a little self-concious, and now he had well and truly decided _fuck it_.

It’s not like Namjoon minds. Something about it is kind of exciting.

“When’s dinner going to be ready, hyung? I’m starving,” Jimin whines, plodding into the kitchen. He had taken a nap that afternoon to sleep off a full lunch of naengmyeon and only woken up a few hours ago.

Namjoon is making galbitang, and the stew had just come to a simmer. He chuckles at his husband’s impatience and, without thinking, reaches out to pat the side of Jimin’s belly.

“Soon, Jiminie, be patient,” he says, letting his hand rest on the side of Jimin’s tummy. He doesn’t realize the way he's called attention to it until Jimin stills under his hand.

A pang of fear flashes through Namjoon; he waits for his husband to be offended, or say he’s going back on a diet, or _something_. But what he’s not expecting is Jimin to lean into his touch after his initial hesitation.

It’s not like Namjoon has shied away from touching Jimin’s chubbier parts. There was just something different about his burgeoning belly than his hips and ass. He touches those parts with reckless abandon, but he usually gives Jimin’s belly little more than a few kisses as he works his way down during sex, not wanting to draw too much attention to it and make Jimin uncomfortable.

But if his thighs, ass and hips took the brunt of the first wave of Jimin’s weight gain, his belly has taken the brunt of the second. It’s blossomed in the past few months, filling out Jimin’s shirts, growing too large to be contained by some of them. Way more than once, Jimin would stretch, or reach for something, and reveal the growing plushy sphere beneath. He was still certainly more pear shaped than not, but with the way his belly seemed to push further and further out after every meal, Namjoon wondered if it would last.

Namjoon, feeling bold, lets his hand rub small circles in Jimin’s plump side as he stirs the stew and Jimin leans into him, a heavy, reassuring weight.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Jimin asks, “Hey, hyung?” with a surprisingly small voice.

“Hm?” Namjoon questions, feeling a little nervous just from his tone, looking down to meet Jimin’s big, brown eyes.

“I...ugh, nevermind.”

Now Namjoon turns worried, “Jimin-ah? What’s the matter?”

He bites his lip and looks down, emphasizing his double chin. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid,” he says.

“If something’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.”

“I just-” Jimin huffs and starts over, looking at the pot on the stove rather than at Namjoon, “I’ve been eating a lot lately.”

 _Oh_. Namjoon’s not sure what to say to that, so he goes for an honest but non-judgemental, “Sure.”

Jimin huffs, looks a little exasperated and says, “I’ve put on a lot of weight, hyung.”

“Ah,” Namjoon says, already sweating, “Maybe.”

“Namjoon,” Jimin says evenly, “I just…I look really different, I guess. This is definitely the heaviest I’ve ever been. And I just wanted to know...if you still find me attractive?”

Namjoon must look appalled, because Jimin continues before he can respond, “This is why I didn’t even want to say it, because it’s stupid! I know how much you love me, and I know you’d never leave me just because I got fat. But...my body’s way different than when you fell in love with me. It would be okay if you preferred me thinner, Joonie, is what I’m trying to say, I guess. I can cut back a little, start dancing more.”

Namjoon is still reeling, but Jimin is watching him expectantly. After a few stunned moments, he finds words again, “Sweetie, I think you’re _beautiful_ like this.”

There’s sincerity in his voice that can’t be faked, by Namjoon least of all, and Jimin raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Really?”

Namjoon nods, taking the pot off the heat so he can focus on his husband. He cups one of Jimin’s chubby cheeks in his hand and says, “I really can’t explain how much I love that you’re eating however you want now. You’ve always been so tense about eating and about your body, and seeing you relax like this has been wonderful, Jimin-ah. And I don’t think it’s been a secret how much I enjoy _this_ ,” Namjoon says with a smirk, reaching around to grab Jimin’s ample ass. Jimin snorts and swats at him.

“But I think this is cute, too,” Namjoon says, bringing a hand to rest on the crest of Jimin’s belly. Jimin blushes, squirms, and looks away immediately. Namjoon’s never really touched him like this, but Jimin doesn’t look upset. Namjoon puts his other hand on Jimin’s lower back to still him, and then he realizes how he’s positioned his hands; with one hand on the crest of Jimin’s belly and the other on his back, it’s like Namjoon’s measuring how far his belly sticks out. His hands are further apart than he would’ve thought, and he’s struck yet again by how thick Jimin’s getting.

Not letting himself get too distracted, he continues, “Maybe it’s just because it’s you, and you can make anything cute, but it is. And I’m so, so proud of you for how far you’ve come, sweetie. You seem so happy lately, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

“‘S not _cute_ ,” Jimin protests, but he’s obviously fighting a smile now, still looking down. Namjoon’s heart is full.

“It _is_ cute. My precious little chubby husband,” Namjoon coos, and he wonders belatedly if that would be too much, but Jimin just giggles. Namjoon pulls him closer, letting Jimin’s rounded belly push against his flat torso. He reaches one hand to massage the plump flesh of his ass and lets the other wander to Jimin’s side, where he’s got plush love handles pushing over the waistband of his leggings. He starts kneading the soft, luxurious pudge there.

It feels risky, touching Jimin like this, but to his surprise Jimin melts under his touch. Maybe in his own hesitance, his own trepidation of triggering Jimin’s insecurities, he had led Jimin to believe that Namjoon preferred him thin.

He won’t make that mistake again.

He pulls away to start putting the soup into bowls and Jimin grumbles unhappily, unconsciously stepping closer to Namjoon so their hips were still brushing.

Namjoon chuckles, “I thought you were starving?”

Jimin pouts, “I _am_ , but- that felt good,” he says, a blush high on his cheeks.

Namjoon gives him a kiss, then says, “Let’s get some food in you first, then I’ll make you feel _really_ good.”

Jimin grins at that, and nods. He helps Namjoon get the food to the table; their own bowls of stew, the big pot in the middle for when Jimin invariably wants seconds, and these days, probably thirds, and enough rice to serve four. Jimin’s digging in before Namjoon fully sits down, and he watches his husband fondly, but also with something burning in his stomach. He’s not sure what to make of the bizarre arousal he’s been feeling about Jimin’s eating and weight recently. He’s never felt like this about bigger people before. He didn’t ever really think of them as unattractive, but they had never stirred anything like _this_ in him. Maybe it really was so simple as he loved to see his husband relax, and somewhere that started manifesting as sexual arousal.

Namjoon eats his own stew, mostly absently, his eyes on Jimin. Jimin helps himself to seconds before Namjoon finishes his first bowl. Namjoon found his mind wandering to all Jimin had already eaten that day. They had gone out to watch the sunrise that morning, stopping and picking up some egg toast sandwiches. Namjoon ordered three, one for himself and two for Jimin. Jimin finished them easily, and when they were on their way back, Jimin requested they stopped at a bakery. They got bubble tea and Jimin bought four sweet buns, and he proceeded to eat all of them on their way home. Then, Jimin made them naengmyeon for lunch, and he served himself maybe the largest bowl Namjoon had ever seen. He had finished it, somehow, moaned of a bellyache and took a nap shortly after. When he woke up, he wandered into the kitchen and munched through several packs of pepero until dinner.

When Namjoon finishes his own bowl, Jimin’s about halfway done with his second. Feeling ballsy, Namjoon stands to bring his own bowl to the kitchen, but not before filling Jimin’s bowl up with what remained of the stew wordlessly. Jimin looks surprised, looking at Namjoon with wide eyes, but Namjoon just kisses his temple and takes his dish and the empty pot into the kitchen.

When he returns, he sits across from Jimin, patiently waiting for him to finish his food. Jimin catches his gaze with a flush, but doesn’t slow down. He was already almost done anyways, scraping the last of the rice out of his bowl. His belly was bloated, but it had been for most of the day, straining his t-shirt enough that Namjoon can make out the outline of his belly button.

“That was good, Joonie. I’m full,” Jimin says when he takes the last bite, one of his hands ghosting over the crest of his belly.

“Not too full for dessert, I hope?”

Despite how visibly full Jimin is, his eyes still light up. Namjoon stands again, walking over to Jimin and brushing a hand down his side. “Why don’t you get comfortable in bed? I’ll bring you dessert.” Namjoon has something in mind, even if it’s probably reckless. Jimin loves attention, especially from Namjoon, and he loves food, so maybe he’d enjoy combining both.

Jimin’s eyes go wide, and there’s a definite glimmer of excitement in his eyes. Namjoon still worries absently about pushing Jimin too hard by saying or doing the wrong thing and bring back his husband’s insecurities, but he seems a little more comfortable with himself than Namjoon had known.

Namjoon goes into the kitchen, hearing Jimin walk off to the bedroom, and he retrieved a quart of ice cream and a glass of milk and follows his husband into the bedroom.

Jimin had just sat down on bed and looks up at Namjoon entering, unmistakable joy in his eyes when they landed on the ice cream. Namjoon comes over to him, puts the dessert on the bedside table and sits with his back against the headboard and pillows. He opens his legs into a V and gestures for Jimin to sit in between. Jimin’s smiling already, emphasizing the roundness of his cheeks, and he crawls over and sits heavily in between Namjoon’s legs. Namjoon has to widen them a little to accommodate the spread of Jimin’s ass and thighs. Jimin leans against his chest contentedly as Namjoon reaches for the ice cream, opening the lid and raising a spoonful to Jimin’s mouth.

Jimin looks extremely pleased, if still a little shy, a blush on his chubby cheeks, but he accepts bite after bite eagerly.

After a while, Jimin grows a little antsy and says, “You’re not going fast enough.”

Namjoon nearly drops the spoon, “I’m just trying to take it easy on you. You’ve had a lot to eat today.”

It’s something he wouldn’t have said out loud before today, and even still he holds his breath to see if Jimin’s offended or upset.

He’s not. “I eat a lot _every_ day, Joonie,” he says, sounding exasperated and taking the ice cream from Namjoon, shoveling it into his mouth. With a mouthful of ice cream, he starts, “You can-,” but something has him stopping.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows at Jimin’s hesitance. His now free hands can’t be idle long this close to all Jimin’s curves, and his long fingers begin sneaking under Jimin’s shirt. His hands are hesitant, waiting to be rebuked, but he lets them slide over Jimin’s swollen tummy where it bows out from his ribcage, taut from a full day of eating.

“I can what?” Namjoon says, voice barely above a whisper.

“That,” Jimin says, and Namjoon realizes he’s talking about his hands moving over Jimin’s belly. “That’s perfect,” he says with a sigh.

Jimin keeps eating and Namjoon nudges Jimin’s shirt up, displaying his round belly. When it’s not so stuffed it’s softer, and often folds into two adorably chubby rolls. It’s nearly a perfect sphere now though, but even so it’s soft below his belly button, where he’s accumulated enough fat that even with all he’s eaten, it’s still squishy and pliant.

He gives the flesh there a gentle squeeze and Jimin moans. He stiffens afterwards, as much as he can with his bloated belly, and looks shyly at Namjoon behind him. “S-Sorry,” he says.

Namjoon just chuckles, eyeing Jimin’s dick where it’s making itself known through his leggings, “Don’t be sorry, Jimin-ah. You know I love to hear you.”

Jimin’s still blushing anyway. He’s notoriously loud, which he’s always been a little embarrassed by, but Namjoon loves it. Namjoon drags his hand back up to the crest of Jimin’s belly and presses the heel of his palm in, just a little. Jimin burps softly, then whimpers.

He’s making good progress through the quart and when he finally stops, and Namjoon looks over Jimin’s shoulder to look into the container. There’s not much left and it’s pretty melted anyway. Something dark in Namjoon really wants him to finish it.

“You don’t have much left,” he says.

Jimin’s panting lightly and paws at his own belly, “I just- give me a second. I just need a minute.”

Namjoon hums, “It’ll melt.”

Jimin looks distressed, like that’s the last thing he wants. Namjoon takes the spoon and ice cream back and says, “Let’s switch. Open up, sweetie.”

His pupils are wide and he opens his mouth to accept. He seems to like Namjoon’s slower pace now that he’s so close to capacity. They’re both hard now; he’s sure Jimin can feel Namjoon’s dick pushing against his plushy ass. There’s something about this image, Jimin with a round, stuffed belly, relaxing and letting Namjoon take care of him, begging for even more food.

After only a few more spoonfuls, the quart is empty. Namjoon’s amazed by Jimin’s capacity, but he’s been leading up to this for a while. Namjoon presses a kiss to Jimin’s cheek and says, “Lift your arms up, Jiminie.”

Jimin obeys, still panting, releasing another soft burp as Namjoon reveals his torso. It’s a beautiful sight. It always has been, but this feels so special somehow.

Carefully, so as not to jostle Jimin, Namjoon slides out from behind him, putting the empty carton and spoon on the bedside table, only now seeing the tall glass of milk he had brought in as well.

He’s not expecting Jimin to be interested in it, but when he sees it, too, his eyes light up but he can’t be bothered to lean over and get it for himself. He makes grabby hands instead, and Namjoon is more than happy to oblige.

Namjoon hands it over and Jimin chugs it. He doesn’t lift the glass from his lips until it’s empty. Namjoon swears he can see Jimin’s stomach bulge outwards that much more.

He hears himself breathe, “Holy shit,” so softly he’s not sure Jimin heard him.

Jimin looks like a fattened prince, so stuffed and corpulent. His belly is rounded out enough that it sits just barely on the tops of his thighs, even with him leaning back. He’s got stretch marks on his bulging hips, and Namjoon knows there are far more on his ass and thighs. His chest and arms look fatter than Namjoon realized; at some point his husband had apparently developed small little breasts and his biceps are now chubby and round. Somehow even his face looks rounder than before, his double chin out in full force, a dribble of milk slipping down it.

“Fuck, I’m so full, Namjoon. Oh, fuck.”

There’s enough genuine distress that it pulls Namjoon out of his trance. He slips back onto the bed, laying beside Jimin, who reclined back against the pillows, and places his hand back onto Jimin’s belly. He’s not really sure what he’s doing or if it’s really helping, but Jimin sags under his touch and sighs.

Jimin closes his eyes and silently lets Namjoon continue his belly rub. Namjoon’s trying to wait for Jimin to open his eyes and initiate something more, because Namjoon’s still so hard he could cry, but Jimin looks delicate and stuffed right now that he doesn’t want to rush him. But as time goes on, Jimin lets out a soft snore and Namjoon realizes he’s fallen right to sleep.

It’s a little early for him to go to bed, and he’ll probably wake up too early in the morning and proceed to wake Namjoon up as well, but that’s okay. He looks like a rotund little angel and Namjoon wouldn’t dare disturb him.

He goes to the bathroom instead, to have a confused and desperate wank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who left comments/kudos on the first chapter <3
> 
> There's some smut in this chapter, FYI!! (but I don't think I'm very good at writing smut so it's pretty brief loool)

They don’t talk about it afterwards, which is practically killing Namjoon.

It’s not like it’s awkward, not by a long shot. It’s been a few weeks and things continue as usual. They’re just pretending they didn’t both get rock hard from stuffing Jimin full of ice cream.

Namjoon would bring it up, he _wants_ to bring it up, but he’s not even sure _what_ he’d be bringing up. He’s now done some research on this sort of stuff on the internet, and it’s proven to only confuse him more.

But at the same time it's not like the research didn't prove lucrative, and there’s loads of content related to _that_ kind of stuff. While the majority of what he’s stumbled across is intense and over the top, some of it’s...nice. Maybe even enough to get him a little bothered. It surprises him, and makes him think that maybe this really _is_ a kink he just didn’t realize he had. Whenever he finds a video that titilates him, then imagines Jimin and himself instead of the people in the video, well. There’s no denying that there’s something there. The shameful wad of tissues that accumulate on his desk as he’s doing ‘research’ is evidence enough.

He feels shameful, too, like a teenager unable to control his libido. Jimin’s appetite and body continue to swell and with it, Namjoon’s lust. He can’t keep his hands to himself, always squeezing or pressing into Jimin’s softness. At least Jimin doesn’t seem to mind even a little. He encourages it, pushing back into Namjoon’s hands, like he’s asking for more. Nowadays, when he’s really overeaten, he’ll just pull Namjoon’s hand to his belly, silently asking for a belly rub.

They’re having tons of sex, too, and Jimin must have noticed that if nothing else. They haven’t had this much sex since the beginning of their relationship. It’s mostly Namjoon, who gets himself worked up just _looking_ at Jimin. But it is Jimin, too, who seems to get a little squirmy and impatient after he’s eaten so much that he can’t pull his t-shirt all the way over his tummy anymore.

Jimin’s starting to get _wide_ , too. It feels like every time he sees Jimin’s ass it’s just that much rounder, that much thicker, that much _fatter_. He’s getting all sorts of heavy and it’s making Namjoon crazy.

He’s got to bring it up. It’s the right thing to do, the healthy, good-communication choice to make.

If nothing else, he’s growing desperate to feed Jimin like that again. He’s not sure he could do it again without talking about it first. It feels like too much, it feels like objectifying Jimin and while he doesn’t think Jimin minded at all, it just doesn’t sit right with him without having that talk first.

And, yet. He hasn’t said anything.

Jimin wanders into the studio then, obviously in search of Namjoon. He’s got a bag of chips in his hands, like he couldn’t be asked to walk all the way to the studio in their own home without a snack first.

Namjoon’s sitting at the piano, not that he can play, but it helps with writing music and lyrics. Jimin approaches, then pauses at the piano bench.

When they had first moved in, Jimin used to slip onto the bench next to him, peeking at whatever Namjoon was working on. Now, Namjoon understands the reason for his hesitation.

There’s not enough room for him.

Namjoon’s sitting in the middle of the bench, and maybe if he moved to one end there would be room for Jimin’s wide rear, but even then, he’s got the bench pulled close enough to the piano that his belly would probably bump against it.

Trying to hide the fact that he’s sweating already, he lifts his legs to turn around on the bench and face Jimin, who steps into the space between Namjoon’s legs. He raises his hands to Jimin’s hips, absolutely unable to help himself from giving them a squeeze. Jimin only grins in return.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Namjoon says, but he’s already breathless. A hand travels up to Jimin’s waist, right above the thickened roll of a love handle.

Jimin looks amused, and he responds, “Hi. Do we have a scale here?”

“A- what?” The question genuinely catches Namjoon off guard.

Jimin gets a little more aware of himself then, and glances down to where Namjoon’s hands are situated on particularly plump parts of himself. He blushes, but persists, “A scale.”

“Um,” Namjoon says, “I don’t think so. I haven’t seen one.” They’re renting this place, and it came mostly furnished, but that wasn’t among anything Namjoon had seen. “We can go buy one, if you want,” he suggests, but instantly his anxiety is back, fearful that if Jimin knows how much weight he’s put on, because it’s certainly quite a lot now, that he’ll start thinking negatively about his body again.

Jimin shrugs, “Yeah, maybe the next time we’re in town. I’m just...curious, I guess.”

Namjoon nods, not entirely buying it. There’s something in his husband’s tone that suggests more.

“Okay. If that’s what you want,” Namjoon says, trying to be nonchalant.

“I mean,” Jimin continues, seemingly plucking the words right from Namjoon’s brain, “it’s kind of a lot, now, right?”

Namjoon feels like he’s choking, “Um. Huh?”

Jimin actually laughs then, and runs a hand through Namjoon’s hair. “The weight I’ve put on, Joonie. It’s a lot.”

That draws Namjoon’s attention to Jimin’s belly, and Jimin’s words feel like an invitation to touch, and Namjoon’s composure is already cracking, so he goes ahead. His hands slip to where most of the new pounds have accumulated, thickening Jimin’s belly until it matched his bottom half better. The lower portion of his belly in particular had gotten abundantly soft and erogenous. Namjoon was also aware that he had gotten a few pink stretch marks there.

He pressed in to the flesh there, letting himself knead it like dough. As Jimin’s gotten more shameless about his weight, Namjoon’s realized how good it must feel when he pays attention to it. Jimin melts every time Namjoon’s hands roam his thick curves, squeezing and wobbling the flesh in ways that he would’ve feared would embarrass Jimin. Sometimes it seems like it might, a little, but arousal always wins out.

“That feels nice,” Jimin says, drawing a shaky breath.

“ _You_ feel nice.”

Jimin giggles at that, then pouts, but is unable to truly keep a smile off his face, “I feel _doughy_.”

Namjoon chuckles and spreads his hand over the crest of Jimin’s belly and gives it a shake. His tummy bounces responsively, and through his t-shirt, Namjoon can see his pert little breasts jiggle, too.

“You do. You feel soft,” Namjoon says, hushed, starting to feel that shaky, unstable but intense rush of forbidden arousal again. His eyes fall to the bag of chips Jimin had brought in.

Hotness prickles at the back of his neck and his mouth is talking before his brain can catch up, “It’s because you keep snacking so much. You really are getting chubby.”

Jimin doesn’t give him time to think about what he’s said. Jimin’s pupils are blown and he immediately says, “I can’t help it. You keep buying all my favorites. Making all my favorites.”

“You haven’t danced down here for a few weeks,” Namjoon points out, feeling so aroused he’s surprised steam isn’t coming out of his ears, “You’re getting lazy, too, sweetie.”

Those words register something in him, break him out of his haze a little. That was too much, _surely_ too much-

But Jimin sucks in a breath, looking at him with such bedroom eyes that Namjoon’s lucky he’s not coming on the spot.

“It’s because you take such good care of me,” Jimin says, and Namjoon notices now that he’s every bit as hard as Namjoon is, tenting his sweatpants. “It’s so easy to be lazy. To be round, and heavy and full.”

“It looks good on you,” Namjoon says, “You look so good like this. You’re getting so thick, Jimin, I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

“I know. It feels good, when you touch me. When you- when you-”

Namjoon gives his lower belly a good squeeze then and Jimin trails off, groaning loudly.

The anxious part of Namjoon’s brain is screaming at him, but he can’t hear it over the thumping of his heart and the burning, searing heat of this exchange.

“You eat so much now,” Namjoon says, the words flowing out like a river, like he can hardly stop them, “I can hardly believe how much you eat sometimes.”

“I love eating, I love eating until I’m stuffed, and when I see you watching me, I just wanna eat more. I’m just always so hungry, hyung,” Jimin’s own words seem to be flowing with the same reckless energy as Namjoon’s.

“You’re not always hungry,” Namjoon says, “Sometimes you’re so bloated I can barely believe it and you still ask for more. You’re not hungry, you’re- you’re-”

“ _Say it_.”

“ _Gluttonous_. You just want more.”

“Fuck,” Jimin says, tilting his head back, and Namjoon can’t take it anymore as he gets his hands into the waistband of Jimin’s sweats and tugs them impatiently down his hips and ass. It’s easier said than done, though, because these sweats are snug, and Jimin’s butt bounces as it’s released from its confines.

He’s pulling Jimin’s underwear down as Jimin’s still talking, “It just feels so good to be full, hyung. _Really_ full. Feels so fucking good.”

“Does being heavy feel good, too?”

There’s no hesitation in Jimin’s breathy answer, “Yeah. Shit. Yeah, it does.”

Namjoon gets to the floor in front of Jimin, kicking the piano bench out of the way, but he’s desperate to get his lips around his husband. His pale thighs were pale, stretch marked and dimpled, quivering from excitement. Jimin’s belly wasn’t so big that it covered his crotch, not by a long shot, but it was big enough that as Namjoon takes Jimin’s length into his mouth, his forehead brushes against it.

Jimin’s making all kinds of noises above him, whimpering and moaning. Namjoon reaches a hand around to palm the heavy, dimpled, toneless flesh.

“I’m- I’m close,” Jimin says, and Namjoon responds by moving his hand beneath an ass cheek and bouncing it.

That’s all it takes to push Jimin over the edge, and he comes in Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon spits into the empty chip bag that Jimin had dropped onto the floor at some point.

Jimin gets onto the floor himself and pushes Namjoon onto his back in the middle of the studio to take care of Namjoon’s own erection. 

He’s pretty sure he comes even faster than Jimin had. 

Jimin, more of a trooper than Namjoon, swallows every last bit. Or maybe he’s just greedier, more eager to be filled.

The reality of what they’ve done, what they have said, settles over Namjoon as Jimin collapses onto his back beside Namjoon, still in the middle of the floor. They’re both panting, but as they lay there, the silence grows replete.

Refusing to be awkward with his own husband, for christsake, Namjoon breaks the silence.

“So, uh. That was really good.”

Jimin peers over at him, looking amused. He hums softly.

Namjoon turns on his side now, propping his head up on his hand. “Jimin-ah. We, uh. We need to talk about this.”

Jimin groans, “Alright, fine.” Jimin looks like he’s going to continue as he opens his mouth, but then he stops and closes it.

Namjoon pauses, waiting to see if Jimin’s going to start. Jimin catches his look and sighs loudly, looking like embarrassment is creeping in again.

“I don’t know, I guess I...I always sort of thought putting on weight would be kinda hot,” Jimin says, mumbling, and Namjoon’s reeling immediately. He’s not sure what he expected Jimin to lead with but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

“Eating has just always felt so good. Binging has pretty much always, ah, turned me on. I was heavier when I was younger, which you know, but I was really careful about it in BTS. It’s a hard thing to turn off. So I just stuck to my diet super hard. And tried to forget that I felt this way at all.”

Namjoon must look gobsmacked, because Jimin looks back over at him and blushes immediately, cringing in on himself and averting his eyes.

That’s the opposite of what he wants, though, and it has him placing his free hand comfortingly over Jimin’s belly, bowed up even with him on his back. “I’m just surprised, Jiminie. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Jimin’s eyebrows knit and his voice gets loud, “Because it’s weird! It’s, like, _really_ weird, Namjoon. It’s not normal to get turned on by eating junk and outgrowing your pants. It’s embarrassing. And...I just didn’t feel comfortable about it for a long time.”

Jimin continues with a sigh, “And, anyways, I wasn’t supposed to get this big. I figured I’d relax when we retired, probably put on _some_ weight, jerk off about it, and call it a day. But. Um. Things may have gotten a little out of hand. I was trying not to go overboard, at first, but...”

Namjoon’s aware of his face now, schooling it to be more neutral. He lets his hand rub soothing circles over Jimin’s tummy.

“I was really scared you wouldn’t like it,” Jimin admits, voice soft now, “Especially when it started getting a little out of control, I was scared you’d touch me less, or be less attracted to me.” He met Namjoon’s eyes then, a devilish spark in them, “But that’s not the case, is it?”

Namjoon swallows heavily, “Um. No. Definitely not.”

Jimin’s fully smiling now, “I could tell by the way you watched me, and the way you’d get so twitchy and nervous. It seemed too good to be true, so I thought maybe I was just imagining things, but after the ice cream…”

Namjoon’s spent dick still gives a twitch at the memory. “You looked so good that night,” he says.

“So why don’t you tell me what’s going on in _your_ head?” Jimin finishes. Namjoon clears his throat. It’s only fair after Jimin’s been so honest.

“Well. I don’t know, at the beginning it really was...innocent, I guess. I told you that I was really happy that you were taking it easy, eating whatever you wanted. That’s all true, and honestly it's still true. You seem so much happier and more at ease like this, Jimin-ah. It makes me so happy.”

“But? Go on,” Jimin says, a teasing smile on his face.

Namjoon laughs, blushing, “This is...new to me. This...kink, I guess? It’s not something I realized I was interested in before. I, ah, did some research online. I thought it would help me figure out how to bring this up.”

“Did it?”

“ _No_ ,” Namjoon says with a chuckle, “In case you didn’t notice, I _didn’t_ bring it up.”

“Well, we’re talking about it now.”

“I’m glad we are. I- Jimin, I was going _crazy_.”

Jimin giggles, eyes crinkling, “I could tell.”

Jimin looks like he wants to say more, but he stops himself again and it has Namjoon curious. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he says.

Jimin huffs, like he’s put out that Namjoon expects him to keep speaking so plainly. So Namjoon ups the ante and takes one of Jimin’s small hands in his own and kisses his knuckles.

It has Jimin’s face softening, and he looks away as he admits, “I guess I just...it’s hard to believe. Like, I don’t doubt you or think you’re lying or anything, obviously, and I’ve seen it written all over your face these past few months, but…”

Namjoon smiles, trying to make the situation less serious. “What’s hard to believe, Jimin-ah? That I think you’re smoking hot?”

Jimin snorts a laugh.

“Or maybe that the old adage ‘more to love’ was on to something?”

“Hyuuung,” Jimin whines, and he turns his head to make full eye contact with Namjoon. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face from Namjoon’s jokes, but there’s still a glimmer of worry in his eyes that pulls at Namjoon’s heartstrings.

“Jimin. You are the sexiest man on this planet and every day I cannot believe I’m so lucky to call you my husband. And this?” Namjoon’s hand that had come to rest on the crest of Jimin’s belly gives it a little wobble, “Sweetie, honestly, I’ve never found you more irresistible.”

Jimin’s eyes are wide and vulnerable. “Really?”

“Really.”

_

They wander out that afternoon with the goal of buying a scale. It was around lunchtime, so they agreed to pick somewhere to eat on their way to the department store. They walk close enough that their shoulders brush and sometimes their fingers do, too. Holding hands sometimes gets some stares, and frankly, they’ve both had enough of those for now, so they usually keep just enough distance.

They have to be pretty flagrant to get recognized these days, anyways. They both dyed their hair back to their natural black, and Namjoon made a point of wearing either glasses, a mask or a hat in the city, and usually some combination of the three. It’s been a month or two since he’s been recognized in the streets.

It’s been probably about a year for Jimin, though, Namjoon realizes. It’s certainly because of the weight. He looks quite different than he had during BTS’s active years.

Namjoon watches his husband as his eyes linger over one of their favorite samgyeopsal restaurants. Unable to help himself from displaying a _little_ PDA, he raises a hand to the back of Jimin’s neck, swiping his thumb back and forth.

“I could go for samgyeopsal,” Namjoon says, and Jimin smiles and nods.

They end up ordering a stupid amount of food, enough that the waiter raises his eyebrows and takes a moment to explain just how large the platter they ordered is.

Jimin ends up doing most of the grilling, out of a combination of habit, since he’s younger, and also logic, since he’s a little better at that kind of cooking than Namjoon.

They’re eating peacefully, when Jimin says, “So in your ‘research’,” he holds a hand up to do air quotes, “What sort of stuff did you find interesting?”

Namjoon nearly chokes, and after clearing his throat and glancing around at other tables to make sure they weren’t overheard, he looks back at Jimin, who just looks amused.

“We’re gonna talk about this _here_?”

Jimin shrugs, popping another bite into his mouth, “The restaurant’s busy, no one will overhear. Besides, I want to know.”

If there’s one thing Namjoon’s bad at, it’s depriving Jimin of literally anything he asks for.

“Uh. Well. I think I’m a simple guy. I like, uh, making sure you get plenty to eat. And feeding you. I think you’re body’s ridiculous. Seriously, Jimin-ah,” he says when Jimin starts laughing, “I can’t take my eyes off you. I love your curves, your belly. Your cellulite. Your stretch marks.”

Namjoon’s voice gets a little hushed at the end, but Jimin’s rolling his eyes, “I don’t have _that_ much cellulite.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “Have you taken a look at your ass lately?”

Now Jimin’s blushing, but he’s still grinning, obviously pleased, “Well, it’s kinda hard to see what’s _behind_ me. Besides, that’s your job anyway.”

“Then believe me when I say your ass is _incredible_ , and definitely has more than its fair share of cellulite.”

Jimin’s still smiling but his lips part and his eyes hood just a little more. It’s subtle enough that Namjoon’s not surprised he didn’t notice it earlier, but now it’s unmistakable as arousal.

“You like it when I talk like that,” Namjoon says. It wasn’t a question.

Jimin licks his lips, and takes another bite of his samgyeopsal, “I do. I...I’d like it if you pointed out my size more, I guess,” Jimin says, trailing off and following his statement with a shrug.

“Okay. I think I can handle that,” Namjoon says, feeling both nervous and excited. He’s been noticing Jimin’s size constantly lately, so that shouldn’t be too hard.

“What about...do you have a limit, Jimin-ah?” Namjoon asks, softly because part of him still fears Jimin’s insecurities, “A stopping point?”

Jimin stiffens and Namjoon’s heart stops, “Um. Well, what’s _your_ limit?” Jimin asks.

“What-? Jimin, this is your body.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure even if you like this, too, there’s a point where I’d be too fat to be attractive to you.”

Namjoon frowns, “Not possible.”

“Hyung,” Jimin chides, “It’s okay. It’s not _wrong_ to not be attracted to me if I get really-”

“Stop,” Namjoon interrupts, “Don’t even finish that sentence.” Namjoon bumps his ankle up against Jimin’s and looks him dead in the eye, “You’re my husband. I love you like I never thought I’d love anyone. I don’t think there is a single damn thing you could do that would make you unattractive to me. Least of all indulging and enjoying our retirement. I would _never_ ask you to lose weight. Well,” Namjoon amends as an afterthought, “I guess unless your health was a problem.”

Jimin’s smiling, though, and he pops more food into his mouth, “Alright. Well, then I guess to answer your question, there’s not really a weight that comes to mind as a place I want to start cutting back, or losing weight. As long as I feel good, and we can still go for walks and I can still dance if I want to, I’m happy.”

Namjoon smiles, and Jimin smiles back, his chubby cheeks making his eyes scrunch up even more than they used to.

Conversation switches elsewhere for a while, as Jimin nears the end of the meat platter they had bought.

Suddenly Namjoon can’t help but ask, “Did you eat breakfast this morning?” He had been in the studio since he woke before Jimin that morning. He’d been feeling inspired lately, and was finishing up some outstanding projects. Jimin had wandered into the studio around midmorning with that bag of chips, and Namjoon’s curious if that was all he had.

Jimin looks surprised at the question, before a gentle blush settled onto his cheeks. “Um. Yes,” he admits, “We have cereal. So I had two bowls of that, and some watermelon. And I fried a few eggs. Oh, and I made some toast after that.”

_Jesus_. “And the chips?” Namjoon says.

“Well, you asked if I had breakfast, not about snacks,” Jimin says, mischievousness glimmering in his eyes. “For snacks, I had the rest of the chocolate cookies in the cabinets, I think there were five or six, and the bag of chips.”

Namjoon gulps, shifting in his seat, feeling warmth pool in his lower stomach. It was barely past noon, and now Jimin could add the bulk of a meat platter meant for four onto that list. 

Jimin’s still got a teasing smirk on his face as he says, “What’re you thinking?”

Namjoon lets himself speak without thinking too hard about it, “I think it’s no wonder you’re getting so chubby.”

Jimin sucks in a breath. His smile has been replaced by him chewing his lower lip. “We’re just going to get each other worked up at this rate,” he complains, but it’s half hearted, “We still have errands to run.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world, Jiminie. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun with this.”

Jimin’s easy smile is back, if maybe he’s still a little flushed. Then his eyes narrow. “I bet _you_ didn’t eat breakfast, did you?”

Namjoon blinks. He hadn’t felt all that hungry this morning, and he’d been eager to get into the studio. Even during BTS, while he didn’t diet like Jimin or some of the other members, his leanness could be attributed to his busyness and forgetfulness. He hadn’t intentionally skipped meals, but it wasn’t unheard of for him to forget to eat completely or just not have the time. It’s easier these days, because he’s less busy and he and Jimin share most meals.

Jimin clicks his tongue, “I’m not asking for you to have a _lot_ , Joonie, but you shouldn’t skip meals.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon says earnestly, “I didn’t even really think about it. I’ll do better. Can’t have me getting even scrawnier,” Namjoon tries to joke, but there’s enough reflection of his own body image there that it falls a little flat.

Jimin gives him a half smile anyways, one that’s patient and understanding. “Hey,” he says, “My husband may be thin, but he’s gorgeous just as he is.”

“I think you might be biased.”

“No, I just have eyes. I can _see_.”

That has Namjoon snorting with laughter and Jimin follows suit.

_

Namjoon watches Jimin strip with hungry eyes. Every roll and bulge that’s revealed has Namjoon feeling more and more dizzy.

Jimin pulls his shirt up, and his tummy bounces from the movement, and even his plush chest wobbles, just barely, as he pulls his shirt over his head. He starts maneuvering his leggings down his ass and off his thighs. It takes some shifting, because the pair he’s wearing have definitely crossed into the ‘snug’ category. As he bends over to pull them off his thighs, his belly folds into two thickened rolls, and every bit of him jiggles responsively as he kicks his pants away.

The silver scale is sitting in the middle of their bedroom floor, because neither of them could wait. They invested in a decent one, too, one that gave both kilos and pounds, and read the results aloud. It also had a 200 kilo weight limit, or about 440 pounds. That sounded ridiculously huge, but Jimin picked it out, so Namjoon wasn’t going to say anything.

Jimin’s down to his boxers now, and he looks down at himself and gives his belly a poke. “Any guesses?” he asks Namjoon.

Something about the situation still feels crazy to him, that Jimin’s so okay with this when he was so skittish about his weight before. He gets it now, and Jimin’s kink explains a lot about his behavior. He still absently fears triggering an insecurity or a negative thought, but it doesn’t seem to have happened yet, so for Jimin, he’ll make a point to continue speaking plainly.

“What were you before we disbanded? Like 65 kilos?”

“More like 63, maybe 63 and a half.”

Namjoon tries to not let the displeasure show on his face. He’d still love Jimin to death if he ever got back down to that weight, but 63 kilos is about 139 pounds, and that just sounds so small.

He looks Jimin up and down now. He has no idea if he’s any good at estimating weight, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t given Jimin’s any thought.

It’s been two years since disbanding anyway, which has been more than enough time for Jimin to blow up.

“I think there’s no way you’re less than 90 kilos now,” Namjoon says honestly.

Jimin puts a hand on the underside of his belly and jiggles it. Namjoon’s fairly sure he’s died and gone to heaven.

“You think?” Jimin asks dryly.

“Fuck. Have you weighed yourself at all since we disbanded?”

“Nope,” Jimin says, popping the ‘p’.

Namjoon contemplates for another second before he says, “Okay, I’ll say 100 kilos even.”

Jimin turns towards the mirror, pensively deciding on his own guess. To Namjoon’s delight, he gives his belly another wobble. Then he reaches up to give both of his budding breasts a squeeze. He pinches the chub of his upper arm inquisitively, like he’s just noticing that he’s getting bulky there, too. He turns around then and cranes his head over his shoulder. He’s still wearing boxer briefs, but even so, there’s no way he can’t tell Namjoon was telling the truth about his cellulite given how much of it has begun to spread down his thighs, too. Then he reaches around and gives his ass a few bounces.

It’s too much and it has Namjoon groaning from where he’s sitting on their bed, “Jimin-ah, what are you trying to do to me?”

“I’m just trying to make an accurate guess, hyung,” Jimin says innocently. “I’m going to say...I’ll say 105.”

He turns around then, grinning mischievously. “We should make this a little more interesting,” Jimin suggests.

“Oh?”

“If I win, you have to make me whatever I want for dinner, while wearing that pair of underwear I got you for Christmas a few years ago,” Jimin says, and Namjoon tries not to cringe. They were speedo-style, pink leopard print and said ‘property of Park Jimin’ across the behind. _Where_ Jimin got them custom made, Namjoon had no idea, and he hadn’t worn them a single time after he had first gotten them, after endless begging from Jimin to ‘just try them on’.

“I haven’t seen them in a while,” Namjoon says, knowing that he actually managed to throw them away as they were sorting through their respective wardrobes before moving, “Maybe they got lost in the move.”

Jimin’s grin was devilish as he walked over to the wardrobe and produced the underwear within seconds. Namjoon tried not to gape.

“You know, it’s very rude to throw away a gift,” Jimin sniffed through his unsuppressable grin. “If you’re trying to throw something away sneakily, try putting something on top of it, Joonie.”

Namjoon groans, obviously caught, “Alright, alright. So what do I get if I win?”

“Well, what do you want?”

Namjoon bites his lip. “Can I change my guess first?”

Jimin gapes at him, but the corners of his mouth are tugging up, “What, were you trying to flatter me?”

“I just want to add one kilo! The stakes are higher now.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Fine. I’ll allow it. Your guess is 101, mine is 105. We’ll do whoever’s closer. Now, what do you want if you win?”

Namjoon thinks for a minute, before answering, “I want you to dance for me. A song of my choosing, and an outfit of my choosing.”

Jimin smiles, “That’s a good one. Okay,” he says, stepping up to the scale. He takes a breath before stepping on.

“ _Calculating_ ,” the scale says aloud in a female, robotic voice. There are a few moments of heavy silence before it issues the verdict.

“ _103.7 kilograms. 228.6 pounds_.”

Jimin beams and Namjoon groans. 

He should know better than to bet against Jimin with his luck. He’s a little disappointed he won’t get to see Jimin dance in something he chose (he had already been getting excited to rummage through their wardrobe), but more than anything, his own body is beginning to react to his mostly-naked husband in front of him. All _228 pounds_ of him.

He had never imagined Jimin would get so heavy. Even when they had first retired and Jimin had begun indulging a little, collecting a few extra pounds around his hips, Namjoon never imagined it would be more than that.

He palms himself as Jimin steps off the scale, ass wobbling, beautiful and round and so fucking _sexy_ that, yeah, Namjoon’s rearing and ready to go.

Jimin eyes him where he’s sitting on the bed and snorts, bending down to pick the scale up. His belly folds enticingly as he’s bent over, pudge pushing out over his waistband, heavy ass in the air.

“Jimin,” Namjoon complains, his voice coming close to a whine.

Jimin pointedly ignores him, but he’s smiling as he walks to put the scale in their bathroom, obviously pleased with the attention.

Jimin wanders back into the bedroom and _finally_ walks over to Namjoon. He swats Namjoon’s hand away from his crotch so he can straddle Namjoon’s lap. Namjoon feels dizzy as those heavy thighs and ass easily cover his lap, and his tummy bumps up against Namjoon’s flat stomach. Jimin leans in for a kiss and everything just feels _so good_ that Namjoon can hardly believe it’s real.

It doesn’t take long for him to raise his hands to Jimin’s ass, giving it a good, rough squeeze. Jimin gasps shakily into the touch and Namjoon pulls him even closer, and the feeling of being surrounded, _enveloped_ by Jimin’s softness has Namjoon desperate.

After everything, Namjoon feels the need to verbally say so, even if he can’t get much more out than, “You feel so good.” He’s started kissing down Jimin’s jaw and neck, and he gives Jimin’s budding double chin a nip.

He realizes then that Jimin’s every bit as aroused as he is, even if he had been trying to act more aloof. His thighs are quivering, and he can’t give Namjoon more than a, “Ngh,” in response. His eyes are tightly closed, and he’s making little breathy sounds.

Feeling brave, Namjoon lowers his head and gives one of Jimin’s puffy nipples a lick. Jimin’s hands grip Namjoon’s shoulders tight and he moans. Encouraged, he pulls the peaked, chubby flesh into his mouth and sucks. Jimin cries out, and raises one of his hands to his mouth to cover it, to quiet himself. Namjoon pulls it away and puts it back on his own shoulder as he moves to give Jimin’s other little breast the same treatment.

As his mouth is working, he lets his hands drift to Jimin’s belly. He’s pressed up against Namjoon so he can’t get at it very efficiently, but the swell of his hips is on display, so he goes for those instead. He ghosts his fingers over the red stretch marks there before giving the fat a rough squeeze.

Namjoon scootches back on the bed then, taking Jimin with him. It’s harder than it used to be, moving with Jimin on his lap. He used to be able to stand with him on his lap and Jimin would just wrap around him like a little koala. Now, he feels _heavy_ , a weight substantial enough that Namjoon’s not sure how well he’d be able to move around while carrying him.

Namjoon lays back, pulling Jimin on top. Jimin props himself up with his hands on either side of Namjoon, and with his belly softly hanging between them, Namjoon’s struck with a specific desire.

“Let me- can I take you from behind, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees, flushed and pupils dilated.

Namjoon slips out easily from underneath him and moves around back. Jimin was still in his boxers, so once Namjoon strips those off, it’s quite a sight. With his hefty ass in the air, Namjoon’s practically blind with lust. He puts his hands under Jimin’s cheeks and bounces them, and Jimin whines.

“Look at you, honey,” Namjoon coos, “103 kilos, Jimin, _fuck_. You look so good.”

“Please, hyung,” Jimin whimpers, pushing his rear even further into Namjoon’s hands, obviously begging to be stretched. After taking a moment to procure lube from the bedside table, Namjoon obeys and slips a finger between Jimin’s swollen cheeks.

Namjoon’s other hand comes around to fondle where his belly’s hanging down. He gives his lower belly a squeeze, where it’s particularly flabby. Jimin’s whole body shudders, and it’s a magnificent sight.

He slips another finger into Jimin as he gives Jimin’s tummy a shake. He feels more than sees it wobble, because of the angle, but the movement makes his ass and thighs jiggle, too, and Jimin makes a high, needy sound.

“You were smaller the last time we did it like this,” Namjoon says, remembering that Jimin said he likes when Namjoon talks about his size. “Your ass is getting huge, baby.”

Jimin makes a choked sound and Namjoon slips a third finger in.

“Think we need to go shopping for clothes for you,” Namjoon says, his free hand moving along Jimin’s waist and tracing where his boxers left faint red marks on his skin. “You’re getting too thick for all your clothes again.”

“Fuck,” Jimin whimpers, “Fuck, _hyung please_ -”

Namjoon slides in a moment later, deeming Jimin to be well stretched. Namjoon makes a sound of relief once he’s encased in Jimin’s warmth and Jimin buries his head into Namjoon’s pillow, making a high keening sound.

He’s heard it said before, that love handles are exactly that, _handles_ for such activities, but he never realized how true it was. His hands fell there naturally as he began thrusting inside of Jimin, letting his fingers sink into the chub and holding tight.

The sound of slapping flesh is louder than ever before, and Jimin’s ass and thighs are jiggling wildly with every thrust. It’s hypnotizing and Namjoon knows he’s not going to last very long.

He’s still able to go for a while, though, before he feels he’s getting dangerously close. He leans forward and takes Jimin’s dick in his hand, using his precum as lube, and begins jerking him off.

It doesn’t take much more than that before Jimin comes with a strangled cry, and Namjoon lets himself release a few pumps after.

_

He had been feeling sated and sex-happy for a few hours after, and then Jimin says he wants ramen for dinner, and hands Namjoon the tiny briefs.

Namjoon puts them on obediently, but standing and looking at his reflection, he feels the urge to cross his arms and hunch over, to hide the gawky length of his torso and the skinniness in his chest and arms.

He’s usually okay with his body, but after admiring Jimin’s gorgeous curves all afternoon, he can’t help but feel a little inadequate. He’s not even really one for walking around or going to sleep shirtless, so he’s feeling a little exposed.

But Jimin rounds the corner then, reentering the bedroom, and he looks Namjoon up and down with unmistakable appreciation.

“Wow,” Jimin says, eyes still roaming Namjoon, “I forgot how good you look in that.” He’s blushing and still staring, and honestly, it’s the confidence boost Namjoon needs.

He’s feeling better, but he still complains, “I look ridiculous.” Besides the color and print, the underwear are so tiny that they’re slung low on his hips, nearly low enough to show off his neatly groomed pubic hair. His own ass, which isn’t that big to begin with, is poking out the seat of the underwear.

“God,” Jimin breaths, stepping closer and running his hand over the smooth plane of his stomach, “No, hyung, you look fucking sexy.”

Then he swats Namjoon on the ass (property of Park Jimin, after all) and turns on his heel, leaving the room.

“I expect dinner to be ready in a timely fashion, Joonie~” he sing songs, walking away. 

Namjoon’s eyes are on his ass, watching it sway as he left.

Maybe he’ll keep the underwear after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Jimin knows full well that he’s let his eating get a little out of hand. But once he started letting himself eat, _really_ eat, the way he’s always craved deep in his bones, he doesn’t want to stop.

Logically he knows he will one day. He thinks he will, at least. But that day feels so far off, and right now everything just feels so good that it’s hard to imagine.

And with the knowledge that Namjoon’s into it, too? Not just tolerating it, or accepting it, but actively enjoying it? Fuck, it’s hot. It’s so hot that just _thinking_ about how hot it is is enough to get Jimin squirming.

Namjoon’s at the market now, picking out some fresh, seasonal fruits and veggies. He’s taken more and more to cooking over the past few months, and he’s finally getting pretty decent. He’s better at it than Jimin now, anyways, he thinks. Namjoon’s so cute, too; times like now when he searches for the perfect ingredients to make food that’s just that much more special. It’s so thoughtful, especially when he knows full well that Jimin’s become a bit of a pig and would eat just about _anything_ Namjoon prepared or bought, unless it was truly awful. The food doesn’t have to be special for Jimin to get fat off it, or to even just enjoy it, but Namjoon’s been trying really hard and it’s so domestic and sweet that Jimin could probably make himself cry thinking too much about it.

Namjoon had, of course, invited Jimin to come walk around the market with him. Most of the time Jimin tagged along, but Namjoon could really take his time choosing produce so he’d be gone for at _least_ two hours, including traveling time, and it was July now so it was sweltering outside. He didn’t really fancy walking all around the market in this heat, standing behind Namjoon as he decided which radish to buy, while he sweat bullets that would surely slip uncomfortably into his fat rolls. It would make his snug shirts only more obvious, too, once his fattened body would undoubtedly produce a fine layer of sweat and the fabric would begin clinging unforgivingly. It definitely wouldn’t take long to reach that point in this heat.

Sitting around in the air conditioning sounded much more pleasant. But, without Namjoon around to serve as a distraction, it didn’t take long until Jimin got bored, and therefore began to eat.

Namjoon had made Jimin a tall stack of chocolate chip waffles for breakfast that morning, topped with whipped cream. He only rolled his eyes when Jimin took chocolate syrup out of the cabinet and drizzled some on top.

It was then that Namjoon said, “I’m going to the market for some produce today. Do you want to come?”

Jimin had checked the weather before he got out of bed, and he knew it was supposed to get up to 32 degrees today, so he shook his head easily and complained, “It’s too hot for that.”

Namjoon had chuckled and pressed a kiss to his temple, “That’s fine. We just need more fruits and vegetables so I won’t be too long.”

That was a lie if Jimin ever heard one; that task would still take Namjoon quite a while. But he only hummed all the same. Namjoon still hovered near him, and draped his big hand over the crest of Jimin’s belly.

“Someone’s gotta make sure you get something in here besides chocolate and whipped cream.”

“Hey,” Jimin protested, “I eat fruits and veggies.”

Namjoon looked amused, “Yeah, maybe when I serve them to you.”

Namjoon’s words echo in his mind now as Jimin stands in front of the fridge. He has certainly been straying away from healthy food, he can’t really deny it. But after so many years on his diet, he was sick of it. And junk food just tastes _so good_.

It had only been maybe an hour since he ate the small tower of waffles Namjoon had prepared for him. He can probably wait until lunch.

He doesn’t want to, though.

He gives his belly a rub as he decides where to start. There’s a bowl of leftover chocolate pudding in the fridge that looks awfully good. Namjoon had used the rest of it in a cake he made a few days ago, but he made too much, so the rest had gone into a tupperware bowl.

Jimin grabs it, and the can of whipped cream, and hesitates before walking away from the fridge. He’ll want something salty after this, probably, and it seems smarter to just grab something now rather than having to get up again.

Jimin doesn’t exactly leave a lot of leftovers, but there’s over half a pizza from two days ago when Namjoon had ordered three whole pizzas because ‘you were asleep and I didn’t know which kind you’d like best’. It was a weak excuse, not that he needed one as far as Jimin was concerned, and Jimin had done his very best, but even he couldn’t manage the whole spread.

Jimin began reheating the pizza and remembered the night fondly. He had been cemented into the couch cushions, so stuffed he could barely move, and Namjoon had dutifully fed him slice after slice until Jimin finally couldn’t eat another bite. Namjoon hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off him the whole night.

Jimin can’t help himself; he pops open the lid of the pudding and helps himself to a few bites as he waits for the microwave to finish its job.

He brings his second breakfast- or first lunch maybe?- to the kitchen table so he could peer out the huge windows at the ocean as he ate. He flops down onto the chair, and freezes when it gives an unhappy creaking sound.

Jimin wiggles in his seat, belatedly realizing that it’s kind of a tight fit. The chair has arms that come down and connect to the front legs, and looking down, Jimin can see the way his wide hips flow out below the arms, adding to the girth of his behind which was pushing off either side of the seat. That wasn’t too new, but newer was the way his waist is wide enough that even his sides are pushing against the armrests, puffing out above and below the arms.

Heat prickles down Jimin’s neck. He feels fat. _Really_ fat. Too fat for this chair and that only makes him want to stuff himself in it more. The chair gives some more creaks as Jimin shifts but none as loud as when he first sat down, so he figures he’s safe. Besides, they last weighed Jimin in April (they had bet, the same stakes, and Jimin had emerged victorious once again) and had weighed in at 115.5 kilos, and he knows he’s put on more weight since then, but surely not enough to _break_ a piece of furniture.

The chairs are a little on the small side anyway, so he writes it off.

Between watching the mid morning sun and scrolling through his phone, the food depletes fast. Jimin helps himself to another few bites of pudding, adding whipped cream to his spoon for every bite. It’s creamy and delicious, and Jimin imagines it adding more and more inches to his waistline.

There’s still pudding left but he decides to save that for last, so Jimin lifts the last piece of pizza to his mouth. He realizes his free hand had fallen to rest comfortably on the crest of his belly. He gives it a rub and realizes that, sitting like this, his belly really is quite shelf-like. He finishes the slice, then grabs the bowl of pudding and leans back a little to heighten the shelf-effect (to the chagrin of the chair, which groans in protest) and carefully places the bowl on his belly.

It doesn’t quite work as well as he hoped it would; the bowl’s still a bit too big for Jimin’s belly and it starts sliding down the slope instead of resting on the crest like Jimin had hoped for. But it’s close, close enough that he feels a smaller bowl would actually probably fit quite well, and that fills Jimin with excitement all the same.

He finishes his food with enthusiasm, and he finds that the only thing he wants to do once he’s done is go get more.

So, he does. He gets up from his chair, which is easier said than done. He has to hold the chair down with his hands to get his hips past the armrests without lifting or shifting the chair, because his hips can’t make it past the armrests without getting caught on them.

It’s got Jimin chubbing up in his sweatpants as he excitedly starts raiding the cabinets. He’s a little full now, but just a little, and these days, that’s practically empty.

He spots a box of choco pies on a higher shelf and stands on his tippy toes to reach for it, startling when he feels the cold counter press into his bare belly. He hadn’t even realized his shirt had ridden up.

He procures the box and settles back onto his feet, looking down at his belly. From this angle, he can’t really tell that his shirt had ridden up, either. The crest of his belly swells out too much for him to see past it. He can’t see his toes without leaning over, either.

“Fuck,” Jimin says aloud, voice broken. He’s getting really fat.

Jimin opens the fridge again and grabs a soda. Then he opens the cabinets again and grabs a bag of cheesy popcorn. And a bag of peanut M&Ms.

He’s tempted to bring his food back to the couch to turn on the TV, but the allure of the dining chairs brings him back. He sits more slowly this time, and the chair groans protests again, but nothing too alarming. Recently, they haven’t been sitting in there often, usually eating on the couch or at the barstools in the kitchen. Jimin watches some videos on his phone as he eats, his belly getting noticeably full now.

He pulls his t-shirt up the crest of his belly and gives the bare skin a rub. He burps softly and pops a few M&Ms into his mouth. He slips his hand under his belly where it’s pooling into his lap and resting on the tops of his thighs and feels the weight of it. It’s grown a lot, especially recently, as all his stretch marks show. The early ones were on his ass and thighs, then his hips and love handles. The ones on his stomach came later, starting out spidering from below his belly button to the plush softness of his lower belly. It was becoming more of an actual overhang when he was standing, and it was still a popular spot for new stretch marks as there were some older silver and light pink ones, as well as darker red ones.

The sides of his belly were sporting some stretch marks now, too, lower down, like they were trying to bridge the gap between the stretch marks on his side and the ones on his lower belly. They were getting close.

It was exciting to see them; they were like diagrams showing exactly where he was getting the heaviest the fastest. And currently, that honor seemed to be going to his belly.

He gives his stomach a pat and watches it wobble. He puts another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

He’s finally getting a little stuffed once he’s on the last chocopie, belly growing taut and impressively round. The popcorn’s done and he finished his soda. He’d get another if it didn’t mean getting up.

He’s munching on the M&M’s, the last of what he brought over, when he hears the front door click and Namjoon calls, “I’m home!”

“In the dining room,” Jimin calls back, trying to keep the grin off his face when he thinks of how Namjoon’s going to react.

He hears Namjoon go into the kitchen first and the rustling of bags, before footsteps approach the dining room.

Namjoon steps into the doorway and is immediately frozen. His mouth is agape and his eyes are locked onto Jimin’s belly, where it’s bare, stuffed and in his lap. Even his fingers are twitching, like he can’t decide what he’s supposed to do with them.

Jimin’s taken to calling this phenomenon ‘broken brain’. He’s never felt unappreciated by Namjoon, not by a long shot, but before he started putting on weight, Namjoon never looked at him like _that_. Like there was an explosion in his brain and the aftermath left him unable to do anything but gape. Nowadays, all he needed was some teasing, some binging, or Jimin looking particularly fat to get just _broken_.

Jimin loves breaking his brain. It’s his favorite pastime, maybe second to eating.

Jimin looks at the table, at the scraps of all he’s eaten. He left the plate from the pizza and the bowl from the pudding out, just to show off all he’d eaten. Then there was the empty box of chocopies, a can of soda, a bag of popcorn, a can of whipped cream and the M&M’s he was finishing up.

“I got bored waiting for you, hyung,” Jimin says, running his hand over his lower belly roll, trying not to shiver from his own touch. The heavier he got, the more sensitive he was getting down there. Maybe it had to do with all his stretch marks there, too.

“Jesus. Y-Yeah, I can see that. Fuck, Jimin.”

“I’m feeling pretty full. Can you help?”

Jimin giggles as Namjoon hurries forward, pulling out another chair from the table and sitting next to Jimin, hands eagerly reaching out to soothe the crest of his belly. Jimin can’t help but notice that the chair doesn’t make a peep, and how easily Namjoon fits into the chair, with plenty of visible space on the seat and the arms nowhere near his waist.

“I’m getting too fat for these chairs,” Jimin complains and Namjoon’s eyes dart down, drinking in the sight of him.

“Look,” Jimin says, as if Namjoon wasn’t already, poking his sides where they pushed into the arms of the chair.

Namjoon swallows, “We’ll get new chairs.”

“I like these ones.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, “You don’t look very comfortable.”

“You knew I wouldn’t be, didn’t you?” Jimin says, “You used to insist we eat at the dining room table, but we haven’t for months.”

Namjoon bites his lip, running his hands along where Jimin’s thighs are hanging off the edge of the seat, “I didn’t think it would be _this_ tight. You’re-” Namjoon breathes, like he’s steeling himself to say what’s next, “You’re getting really big, sweetheart.”

The words are simple, but coming from Namjoon’s mouth, it’s more than enough to make Jimin’s next breath a shaky one.

Namjoon’s getting his sea legs, his broken brain wearing off and regaining his wits, so he continues, “I was planning on starting lunch, but do you have any room in here?”

“I could eat,” Jimin says automatically. It’s true, anyways; maybe he wouldn’t be up for a full meal right this second, but in the time it would take Namjoon to prepare something, he’d be ready.

Namjoon meets his eyes, a teasing grin on his face, “Maybe something with a lot of vegetables, since you’ve eaten nothing but junk today.”

Jimin feels himself blush and heat pools in his stomach, “It just tastes so good, hyung, I can’t help it.”

Namjoon reaches up, massaging Jimin’s puffy chest. Jimin can’t help groaning out loud; it feels incredible and it has him shivering.

“God, Jimin-ah, you’re so sexy. We should weigh you again.”

Jimin pouts at him, “Now? I’m so stuffed. It’ll read too high.”

Namjoon gives him an amused look, “Sweetie, you’re _always_ stuffed.”

It’s only the truth, but it has Jimin biting his lip to hold back a whine. They had last weighed Jimin in April, and Jimin insisted they don’t do it too often, even though he knows Namjoon would weigh him every day if he allowed it. Personally, it was more thrilling to Jimin to see how high the number could jump after a few months.

“Can you get lunch started first?” Jimin asks. Whatever the number is, high or low, it’s going to make Jimin want to stuff his face even more, he just knows it.

Namjoon’s looking at him in disbelief, but he just laughs, a high pitched and forced sound, and says, “Y-Yeah. Fuck, sure.”

He watches Namjoon scramble to his feet and he sees the way he’s tenting his jeans. He’s heading back into the kitchen when Jimin calls his name.

“Can you bring me another coke, too?” Jimin asks, popping another few M&Ms into his mouth.

Namjoon only groans in response. He disappears and returns obediently with a can, setting it on the table and telling him, “You’re going to be the death of me, Jiminie.”

Jimin just cracks the can open and gives his husband a wink.

He hears Namjoon rustling in the kitchen and by the time he returns, Jimin has finished the M&Ms and his second coke.

“Smells good,” Jimin says.

“Bibimbap,” Namjoon says, “I, uh, got some really good looking mushrooms from the market today.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

Jimin goes to stand, and genuinely forgets that he has to hold down the arms of the chair to keep it on the ground. He just stands, and feels the chair catch on his hips. It’s not so tight that it stays lodged over his wide ass for more than a second or two; gravity slides the chair off him and it falls back onto its legs, clattering noisily.

“Oops,” Jimin says, patting his hips. Namjoon’s just staring at him, looking like he’s got a case of broken brain again.

“Well? Thought you wanted to weigh me?”

That snaps Namjoon back into reality and he gives a strangled, “Jesus,” and he steps closer, putting a hand on Jimin’s lower back to guide him to the bathroom by their bedroom, where the scale is.

They make their way and Namjoon follows eagerly behind Jimin, standing close behind him as Jimin approaches the scale.

He reaches down for the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, letting it catch on his gut so it bounced when it was free from its constraints. He was full enough that it didn’t feel particularly good, but the look on Namjoon’s face was well worth it.

He just looks so needy and desperate, and he’s always been eager for Jimin, but this is different. Jimin agrees with the sentiment, though; Namjoon’s hands have always felt good on his body, but since blowing up like he has, everything just feels so much better, it feels so _right_. He craves Namjoon’s hands on his body. Every swell, roll, and stretch mark is just begging to be touched.

Namjoon steps in before Jimin can get his hands around his waistband to pull it down. He kisses Jimin’s neck from behind, reaching his arms around and cupping the swell of his underbelly and rubbing his thumb back and forth just below his belly button. Namjoon _knows_ how sensitive he is there, and the feather light touch is going to drive him crazy.

Namjoon moves to kiss along Jimin’s jaw, his puffy and rounded double chin, and slips his hands into Jimin’s waistband to start pulling them down his hips. It takes some tugging along the widest part of his ass, where the material is stretch particularly thin. Namjoon gives a few tugs and Jimin feels his whole body jiggle responsively.

“Geez,” Namjoon huffs once the hard part’s over, rolling the leggings down so Jimin can step out of them.

Namjoon leaves him in his boxers, and Jimin blinks at him, coquettish. “Should we bet again?”

Namjoon grins, “Sure.”

Namjoon’s confidence is maybe a little surprising and worrying, but Jimin smiles back anyways, “Same stakes?”

He groans then, “It’s really worth it to you?”

“You’re hot,” Jimin insists stubbornly, “And I show myself off for you all the time. The other way around is nice, too.”

“You show yourself off _just_ for me?” Namjoon says, mouth quirked up.

“Sometimes!”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, “Fine. Same stakes.”

Namjoon takes another moment to look Jimin up and down, and Jimin gives a little spin to give Namjoon a better look.

“You guess first,” Namjoon says after a moment of thinking, “I guessed first last time.”

Jimin pouts but says, “Fine.”

He assesses himself in the bathroom mirror, Namjoon watching with intense eyes behind him. Maybe he’s still just showing off a little, but feeling himself up under Namjoon’s gaze is always fun.

He really has gotten big, he realizes belatedly. His arms usually bow out away from his body a bit these days, and they’re plump enough that if he holds them flush to his sides, they push his little breasts closer together. Shadowned underneath, they look more like a woman’s chest than he ever imagined on himself.

He cups them in his hands, looking at Namjoon’s reflection and pouting, “I have moobs.”

“You have the best pair of tits I’ve ever seen.”

Namjoon says it so sincerely that Jimin can’t help but laugh. It makes his belly bounce and his chubby pecs jiggle in his hands.

“You do!” Namjoon insists, laughing with Jimin but remaining indignant at the same time.

“Alright, alright, I’ll say...122.”

“That’s all?” Namjoon asks and Jimin gapes.

“It’s only been four months since we weighed me last!” Jimin says, remembering his weight of 115.5 kilos, 254 pounds in April. “You think I put on more than 7 kilos?!”

Namjoon doesn’t answer his question, he just grins at Jimin and says, “More like three and a half months. I’ll say 125.”

He sounds so sure, and Jimin does some quick math to figure out that’d be nearly 3 kilos, nearly 6 pounds per month, if Namjoon’s right. The idea has him tenting his boxers. It seems to be doing it for Namjoon, too.

“Hop on, chubby,” Namjoon says, coupling his words with a slap to Jimin’s dimpled, huge ass, and Jimin feels the ripple effect all the way up to his plump little breasts. He bites his lip and steps on.

“ _Calculating_ ,” the female robotic voice says, as Jimin’s heart races.

“ _126 kilos_ ,” the scale says, “ _277.8 pounds_.”

Jimin feels his eyes widen. He leans forward, peering past his belly, and sees the display reading the same.

Namjoon’s there immediately, putting his hands over Jimin’s love handles, feeling the heft of the rolls. He makes a pleased sound, and Jimin feels his hard cock press into stretched flesh of his ass.

“You’ve been so greedy lately,” he whispers in Jimin’s ear, and Jimin tilts his head back and whines when Namjoon starts kneading the flabby flesh of his lower belly. Namjoon presses kisses along his chin, and even Jimin can feel the way his lips sink into the give of his double chin.

“You take good care of me,” Jimin says, breathing heavy.

Namjoon chuckles darkly and reaches both of his arms around. Jimin’s gotten a bit too big for his arms to meet comfortably around Jimin’s middle without squeezing him, so Namjoon’s hands go lower and lift Jimin’s belly up, where it flops over his waistband and hangs just above his crotch like an apron.

Jimin’s watching, rapt, in the mirror. Holy fuck, he’s gotten big. Watching his stretch marked belly overflow his husband’s arms is really doing it for him.

“If your tummy’s anything to go by, sweetie, I think I take _exceptionally_ good care of you. I’d even venture to say you’re a little spoiled.”

Jimin pouts, “I like to be spoiled.”

Namjoon smiles, “I like spoiling you.”

Namjoon drops his belly then, letting it flop back down heavily and wobble for several moments before it settles again. Then, to Jimin’s disappointment, Namjoon steps back.

“Now, I have to pick something out for you to wear,” Namjoon says, waltzing out of the bathroom, chipper, and Jimin groans. He had nearly forgotten he had lost the bet.

Jimin sulks into their bedroom, more bitter about losing than having to dance for Namjoon. He flops onto their bed.

“I think your options are going to be pretty limited, Joonie,” Jimin says, watching Namjoon walk over to the wardrobe, “It can’t be too tight. I need to be able to move.” He can’t imagine Namjoon will find something that will work besides his usual leggings and a t-shirt.

Namjoon only says, “Don’t rush me.”

Jimin can’t help laughing in return, “Do you have a song picked out, at least?”

“Of course. You’ll be doing Serendipity.”

Jimin forces down a smile to complain instead, “Oh, Joonie, that song’s so old, I don’t know if I remember all the choreography.”

Namjoon snorts, “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

He walks over to Jimin and hands him a shirt and leggings. The leggings are a nice pick, he’ll give Namjoon that much. All Jimin’s clothes these days have to be ordered online, since Korea doesn’t have a lot of plus sized options in store. Namjoon himself had bought a few things for Jimin recently, and these were among them. They have a glittery stripe up the side of the legs, and have plenty of room for him to move around.

The shirt is shocking. It looks so much like the bedazzled black button-up he used to wear for some stages when he’d perform Serendipity that he can do little more than stare at it for a few moments. It was his very favorite stage outfit from that track.

The shirt’s obviously not the same once he’s looking at it; besides being who knows how many sizes bigger, the gems and sequins look a little cheaper and are arranged a little differently, but it still has Jimin smiling wide.

“Where the hell did you get this?” Jimin asks.

Namjoon’s smiling down at him, looking so soft and fond that Jimin’s heart lurches.

“Oh, Jiminie, you of all people should know that there are lots of custom clothes shops online. All I needed was a reference photo for what I wanted. It’s not- well, I know it’s not _perfect_ , there’s not so many custom online shops that actually do plus sizes, but-”

“Are you kidding? I can’t believe you found this, hyung,” Jimin says, still smiling. “When did you get this? How- wait, how did you know you’d win the bet?!”

Namjoon’s still smiling, “Well, I couldn’t know that. I bought it when I got you clothes a few weeks ago, figuring we’d weigh you within at least a month, so it would still fit. If I lost I was either going to give it to you anyways and see if I could guilt you into dancing for me. Or maybe I would’ve just hung onto it, saw if you could still stuff yourself into it if we bet again in the future.”

Namjoon watches Jimin hold it up and admire it, and he looks pensive.

“Maybe it’s still a bit too small,” Namjoon muses.

“It’ll fit,” Jimin says resolutely, taking his clothes, getting up off the bed, and beginning to walk to the studio.

Namjoon follows him, and Jimin stops him before he can enter the studio behind him.

“Give me a few minutes to change and practice,” Jimin says, and Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he sighs and nods.

Jimin closes the door behind him and changes. The leggings fit fine, but the shirt, sure enough, is just a little tight at the puffiest part of his belly, along his belly button. But it’s not so bad that his movement is restricted or he fears losing a button.

He’s digested some of his midmorning binge by now, too, so he’s hopeful that it won’t slow him down much more than the extra 60 kilos he’s carrying around these days anyways.

He takes his reflection in. He looks so, _so_ different compared to then. Over 100 pounds heavier, over 10 years since Serendipity was released, Park Jimin is a different person.

It’s melancholy, as he smiles at himself. He misses it, the fame and the idol life, sometimes. But only sometimes. And it’s not like he wasn’t happy then, but he’s so happy now that it just can’t even really compare.

He turns Serendipity on his phone, letting the bluetooth connect to the speakers, and marks the choreography the first time around. He remembers it without a hitch, and that brings a smile to his face, even if he’s a little out of breath when the song ends and he was only _marking_ it.

He replays the song and goes full out. He’s not as clumsy as he feared he would be; it’s been months since he’s _really_ danced, and he knows his center of gravity has changed dramatically from where it once was. He feels the difference, but he finds adjusting for it is coming fairly naturally. He’s a little unsteady at a few parts, but he doesn’t stumble.

He can’t move as fast as he used to be able to, so some of the little nuances of choreography are getting lost, but that’s just going to be how it is. Jimin can’t do much about it now, unless he can lose 100 pounds in the next few minutes.

He’s panting, _hard_ , by the end. He’s grateful that Namjoon didn’t choose a more aerobic dance, because there were plenty of those, too, but this isn’t really one of them. This dance is a perfect pick, really. Technically challenging enough, because no matter how fat Jimin got, his technique wasn’t going anywhere, and not so fast paced that Jimin would be unable to complete it entirely at his size. He thinks at this point, there’s definitely a BTS choreography or two he’d really struggle completing at all.

He pops open the door to the studio, finding Namjoon. He must’ve left for a moment, because he was now waiting patiently with a bottle of water.

Jimin takes it gratefully and ushers Namjoon inside.

_

Namjoon’s entranced and Jimin hasn’t even started yet.

Jimin leads Namjoon by the hand into the studio and lets Namjoon tuck himself into a corner. He’s glistening from his practicing, and it’s making the shirt (which is definitely too snug, Namjoon notices) cling to his hips. 

When Namjoon pulls out his phone before Jimin gets into place, Jimin gives him a look.

“Please?” Namjoon asks, “I’ll treasure it forever.”

Jimin chews his lip. “For your eyes only,” he asserts.

“For my eyes only,” Namjoon agrees.

Namjoon props his phone on the piano bench to his left, because he knows he’s not going to want to look at it once Jimin starts. He doesn’t want to miss a single second.

Jimin turns off some of the lights, then plods over to Namjoon, handing his own phone over and telling Namjoon to start the music when he’s gotten in position.

Obediently, Namjoon hits play when Jimin walks to the center of the studio and poses.

The music starts, and Namjoon watches his husband begin to dance. Even getting so heavy, so fast, Jimin is full of grace, especially while he’s dancing. That much hasn’t changed, and as the song starts slow, Jimin’s movements are precise and perfect.

His muscles, underused as they may be these days, clearly remember the choreography as he moves fluidly through the routine. The first chorus hits and Jimin rucks up the front of his shirt, just like he used to on stage. Instead of a peek of abs, Jimin’s pale, heavy belly is revealed for a moment, swelling over the waistband of his leggings. Jimin meets his eyes and smiles softly, and Namjoon is so floored by the _magic_ his husband exudes that he finds himself a little misty eyed. He remembers all at once how hypnotized he used to get watching Jimin perform. He remembers how hard he’d have to concentrate on _not_ watching Jimin if they were on stage together, lest he get distracted and forget choreography or lyrics.

Because his performances are just pure magic. Namjoon can’t think of a better word for it. His husband was born to perform. Jimin’s lost in the moment, in the choreography, in the lyrics. He closes his eyes briefly as the choreography reaches a slow point, his brows slightly furrowed and a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Jimin gets to the part where he’s on the floor, and Namjoon figures that would be the most strenuous. Jimin’s definitely sweating, probably breathing hard, too, but Namjoon can’t tell over the music. It must be challenging, moving around on the floor with those wide thighs and heavy belly, and while he’s slower and a little less sharp than he used to be, his movements are still so natural and fluid that it looks completely _right_.

Namjoon had expected this to be more arousing than anything; watching his thickened husband dance to a sexually charged song sounded like a huge turn on when he thought about it. And it’s not like he _isn’t_ turned on, but mostly he’s just awed. His husband is incredible, beautiful, and so talented that it’s unfair.

Maybe Namjoon could cajole him into dancing down here more often for him, without a bet. Hell, he’d even wear the stupid pink underwear as payment. Honestly it didn’t feel like a big deal anymore if Jimin considered that an equal exchange. He’d do _anything_ for shows like this on the regular.

The music’s slowing down now, the song reaching its conclusion. He’s thrilled Jimin let him record this on his phone, preserve this memory forever.

He can see Jimin’s chest heaving now that he’s stilled. Jimin meets his eyes in the mirror and turns to face him to make real eye contact. He sings the last lyrics in the song, looking into Namjoon’s eyes.

“ _Let me love, let me love you_ ,” Jimin sings, voice stable and strong despite how out of breath he obviously was. He was always good at that, getting the lyrics across even when he was exhausted and panting.

Namjoon realizes then that he’s smiling dopily at Jimin, for who knows how long, but even now that he’s realized it, he can’t stop it.

The music has stopped now and Namjoon swallows heavily, “Wow,” he croaks, then clears his throat, “Jiminie, you’re- that was beautiful.”

He can hear Jimin breathing hard as he plods over to Namjoon, grinning. He flops onto the ground next to him with a moan and grabs the bottle of water Namjoon brought him, tipping it back and taking a long gulp.

Namjoon’s feeling needy and can’t wait. He scootches closer to Jimin and puts a hand over his belly. He nuzzles his face into the crook of Jimin’s neck and presses a kiss against it.

Jimin giggles, putting a hand on Namjoon’s waist to hold him closer. Then he gives a loud, dramatic sigh. “That was hard, hyung. I don’t think that dance was meant for someone nearing 300 pounds.”

That’s all it takes for heat to prickle down Namjoon’s spine, but he can’t help correcting Jimin, “That dance was meant for you, Jimin. It’s yours, and no one can do it like you, no matter what you weigh.”

Jimin opens his mouth, then closes it. He gives a watery laugh, “I was trying to be sexy, but of course you have to go and be sweet.”

Namjoon can’t help laughing, too, “Sorry.”

He picks his head up off Jimin and presses a kiss to his lips. When he pulls away, he says, “That really was incredible. Thank you.”

“Well, you won the bet. I haven’t done that dance in a while, it was fun. Don’t ask me to do it again any time soon, though,” Jimin says quickly, “I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon snorts, giving Jimin’s hip a squeeze. “Lazy,” he chastises.

Jimin hums and smiles, “Maybe,” he admits.

They sit in silence for a few more moments before Jimin speaks up again.

“Do we have more of that chocolate caramel ice cream?” Jimin muses.

“Why are you asking me? You’re the only one who would eat it.”

Jimin pouts, “Yeah, but I told you I ate the rest of it. I thought maybe you’d pick some up while you were out today.”

Namjoon laughs, “You should’ve asked specifically for it then.”

Jimin’s mouth falls open and he looks so genuinely disappointed that Namjoon laughs harder.

“You really didn’t get any?”

“Don’t be silly, Jimin-ah, of course I did.”

“You- what?!” Jimin swats his shoulder. 

“Oh, please, if I can’t figure out when your dropping hints after all this time, I’m not fit to be your husband.

“Then why were you acting like you didn’t?” he demands.

“Because you look so cute when you’re pouting.”

Jimin swats him again, but even he is giggling now.

“And here I was, willing to let you feed it to me,” Jimin says. As he was speaking, Namjoon’s hand slid from the crest of his belly to the bottom, where a roll of belly fat was pushing against the lower buttons of his shirt. It looked a bit snug when he was standing, but it was undeniably tight now that he was sitting.

“I’ll content myself with watching. Besides,” Namjoon says, slipping his hand under the hem of the shirt to give his tummy a gentle squeeze, “It won’t take long for you moan for a belly rub.”

Jimin’s grinning and pushes to his feet, letting Namjoon’s hand slide out from his shirt. His eyes are twinkling and he extends a hand to Namjoon.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this, thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos appreciated as always <3
> 
> Follow me on [ tumblr ](https://akranes-jlc.tumblr.com)!


End file.
